First Night With Alice
by goblynn
Summary: Hatter had plans in mind--but things don't always go as planned. Mature themes.


Hatter's First Night With Alice (which, technically, wasn't their _first_, but there was a knight with them on _that_ night, and there most definitely wasn't any knight around That Night) didn't go as planned.

He'd wanted to be romantic. Flowers, music, some dancing—let it happen gradually. Do it like the pictures and movies of Alice's World said it should be done. It was supposed to be candlelight and sighs, a large bed and nice sheets. Then they would do this thing Alice's magazine called "cuddling" (whatever that meant; it seemed popular with the females in Alice's World, though, and he wasn't about to make _that_ mistake).

Instead, they'd spent a rainy evening at the cinema (watching something raunchy and hilarious Alice had thought he'd enjoy, and he did) and forgot her umbrella inside, only to find it'd been pinched when she went back for it.

They stood under the matinee for a few minutes, watching the downpour, debating what to do. They were ten blocks from her studio, had no money for a cab (he shot a dirty look at the popcorn tub he'd thrown away at the door), and no way to stay dry.

He rocked his head from side to side, stretching his neck, and rolled his shoulders in his jacket.

_His jacket_.

Hatter looked down at the brown leather (retrieved from Wonderland at her request) and back at her. It wouldn't do much, but it'd be better than nothing at all. He shrugged out of the coat, holding it out to her.

She looked at him quizzically. "What? Take your coat?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"I don't think a little rain'll do me in."

She hesitated, then ducked her head, letting him drape it over her. She peered out at him from between the lapels, fingers clutching the front to hold it in place over her head.

"You're going to get soaked."

He smiled broadly, dimpling. "Won't be the first time, yeah? I crashed a flamingo into a lake with you. Got wet then, too."

She grinned, darting out into the rain, him on her heels. They splashed through puddles, dodged pedestrians, leapt over dog leashes (he did, anyway, Alice went 'round), and stumbled into the studio foyer breathless and laughing.

Alice shook off his coat, hanging the leather up to dry, and turned around.

Hatter was pushing his hair out of his face, looking forlornly at his sodden hat. His clothes clung to him, water dripping slowly from his cuffs. Finally, he lifted his eyes back to hers, looking for all the world like he had the long-ago day they'd emerged from the lake.

Usually, Alice thought Hatter was adorable, charming, rakish—but something in her heart and her belly shifted, and new words entered her vocabulary. She shook herself, blaming it on the chill in the air.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes." She turned to a row of lockers, pulling out a spare uniform. "It's clean, and should fit well enough. You can change in the back." She pointed to a doorway. "Leave your wet clothes—I'll put them in the dryer."

He said nothing as he took the white bundle from her, inclining his head in acknowledgement and going in the direction she'd indicated. She shook her head, rubbing her fingers where they'd brushed his, and went to her office.

Hatter could hear her from the other room—she was on the telephone…her mother?...yes, her mother. He belted the top and stepped out, padding quietly across the wooden floor as he followed the sound of her voice.

"He's drenched…he gave me his coat, so I'm fine—well, mostly…" She laughed softly. "I'm going to dry them here…shouldn't be long. I'll call later. 'Bye."

She was behind the desk when he stopped in the doorway. The uniform was a little small, but didn't look uncomfortably so, and she nodded. "Better?"

He grinned. "'S dry, and that's the best part." He held his arms out at shoulder level, the sleeves coming up high above his wrists. "Bit small, though."

"It's one of mine."

His brows furrowed.

Alice smiled briefly at him. "Well, I wasn't going to put you in something that belongs to a student." She leaned back in her chair, then tilted her head, staring at him.

"What?"

"The pants…where'd they come from?"

"You gave 'em to me."

"But…they fit?"

Hatter's smile verged on indecent. "They're long enough if I wear 'em low enough."

Alice turned pink, fidgeting with the arm of her chair like she wanted to say something. He watched her take a deep breath, then stand. "I need to get your clothes dry." He moved to let her pass, then followed her back through the training room, waiting outside as she gathered up his wet things.

When she came back out, she pointed to the mats along the wall. "You might as well get out one of those to sit on…I'll be back in a second." She pushed through another doorway and disappeared.

Instead, Hatter wandered around the room, looking at photographs from competitions and championships, images featuring Alice's students and herself. She had a few trophies and medals in a case on the far wall, and he was crouched in the floor reading the placards when she returned.

"I keep them out to impress potential students. An award-winning teacher can justify the cost of her lessons." He could hear humor in the words.

When he looked up, he saw she was dressed like him.

She shrugged. "My jeans were wet."

Hatter wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't.

She lowered herself to the floor beside him. "It shouldn't take long."

He was trying not to look down the vee of her top, turning his attention back to the medals.

"Hatter."

"Mmm?"

"Look at me."

He did.

She stared, trying to read him. Though he'd tried to dress more conservatively in her world, there were things about him that remained happily the same. His eyes were smudged black at the corners (he'd taken back up that Wonderland habit—something she'd not minded _at all_), a five o'clock shadow was in full force, and his still-damp hair was sticking up madly.

Oh, how she loved him—loved every lovely inch of this wonderful, dangerous, charming thing that he was.

She leaned forward, the wood hard under her knees, and pressed her lips to his. When she pulled away, a breath apart, she whispered, "I am _so_ glad you're here."

He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and pulling her close—forgetting himself and toppling backward onto the hardwood beneath them. His head hit with a crack; Alice scrambled off his chest, hands flying to her mouth in surprise, then grabbing at his arm.

"Hatter! Are you okay?"

He groaned, wincing. "Yeah…I think." He took her proffered hand, pulling himself upright before resting his head on his knees. "M'head's ringing, though."

"You _did_ hit pretty hard. This floor isn't at all forgiving—that's why we have the mats. Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

He glanced up at her. "Alice—I'm fine. Lived through worse, believe me."

She harrumphed. "Getting shot at, for one."

"And beaten, don't forget that."

"Oh, Hatter." Her hand rested against his cheek. "I could never forget that…it was awful. I can't imagine how much it hurt."

He decided it was probably best she didn't know what Doctors Dee and Dum had done to him after his failed attempt to rescue _her_.

"It was worth it."

She blushed.

He grinned again. "You kicked his ass. That was _amazing_."

"Oh!" She shoved him lightly, laughing.

They talked longer, watching the bustling people on the sidewalks below, going to restaurants and apartments, dates and dinners-at-home, to possible futures and definite presents.

A buzzer sounded in the semi-darkness.

"That's the dryer."

She moved to stand, but his fingers gripped her upper arm again and stopped her. She glanced at him in surprise.

"Alice…leave 'em."

She sank back down to the floor, wondering if he could hear her heart pounding.

Hatter didn't speak, but kept his eyes locked on hers. She tried not to, but couldn't help a quick glance at his mouth, that perfect Cupid's bow, and when she met his gaze again, he kissed her.

This kiss wasn't like the others—where they had been gentle and sweet, tinted with joy and excitement, this was insistent and possessive, colored with hues of passion and want that Alice couldn't remember feeling from any other man.

Other men simply kissed. Hatter's kiss consumed.

Quickly, they were scrabbling at clothes, knotted belts picked at and tugged on—she heard him growl low in his throat with frustration, finally allowing her more practiced fingers to assist—and when his shirt fell away, she saw pale golden skin going on seemingly forever…down, down, down to the low-slung pants barely clinging to his hips. The scars dotting his chest registered distantly in her mind before she laid her hands on him.

He made short work of her uniform, and they were soon entangled upon a hard wooden floor, disregarding languorous caresses in favor of fevered grappling and hot, panting breaths. And when it was over, they lay curled to one another as sweat cooled and dried, fingers brushing over now-familiar flesh.

"Alice?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"…I'm sorry."

Alice raised her head to look at his face. "Sorry? For what?"

Hatter had the good grace to look abashed. "That…wasn't what I—wasn't what I hoped it would be. For us, I mean."

"I don't understand."

His face turned petulant. "Well, it wasn't…romantic."

Alice shook her head, smiling. "Depends on what you call romantic."

"You know—flowers, dancing…that sort o' thing."

Alice laid her head against his bicep. "Jack used to bring me flowers…" She felt Hatter's arm turn to stone beneath her cheek. "…but you know something? I don't see Jack around—do you?"

He grunted noncommittally.

"Hatter…" she grabbed his face, turning his head toward her. "Romance is great. I like it. You know what else I like?"

He shook his head. "No."

She sighed. "I like being happy. _You_ make me happy. And if I never get flowers again in my life, or I never go dancing—_that's fine_. As long as it's _you_ not buying flowers and not taking me dancing, I'm okay."

"Alice…"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

She smiled against his shoulder. "I love you, too, Hatter."


End file.
